


the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

by ingenious_spark



Series: Les Miserables drabbles [8]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Acceptance, Friendship, Gen, Gender Issues, Genderqueer Character, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/ingenious_spark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Prompt: Eponine disguised as a boy finds independence and self confidence.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She'd never intended to do it. It just sort of happened. They think she's a boy, and welcome her into their fraternity. </p><p>And then she discovers it's liberating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite, I think, what the original prompt was angling for, but I do hope it suffices. :D

She hadn't intended to do this - at first it had been an honest mistake. She can't afford clothes that fit well, so she dresses in baggy clothes rather than too-tight clothes. She hates skirts because they restrict her movement _(especially when she's, uh, climbing things)_. She's always layered, because the cold can be deadly, two of her baby brothers died of exposure. Her figure is slim and boyish, unhealthily skinny with malnutrition. Her hair is shorn short because she'd been unable to get the damn bubblegum that a brat had stuck in it while she'd been asleep out. 

They think she's a boy, and welcome her into their fraternity. Okay, well, one of them does. He notices her skulking around the coffee shop they frequent, looking for an easy mark. He knows exactly what she's doing, and tells her so, without judgment. He brings her inside, takes her to the table in the corner, and gets her a bowl of thick tomato soup, heavy crusty bread, and coffee. She is suspicious at first, rightfully so, but there is no judgment, no desire, no anything that seems like it would demand reparation. Then _he_ comes in, and she knows exactly how he feels.

Next time she brings her brother, warns him that to them she is a boy, and to propagate the misunderstanding. Gavroche falls in with admirable aplomb, even coming up with a name not far off from her own. They are Étienne and Gavroche, and the man welcomes them both with open arms. She wonders why the other man treats their friend with such disdain, because Grantaire, as he says his name is, is the kindest person she has ever known. He might be cynical and prone to arguing, but she knows that few men would bring her in off the streets and feed her with no look for reparation. Fewer still would welcome her back a second night, with a grimy twelve-year-old in tow.

Grantaire never asks about their situation _(which is homeless in the busy streets of Paris, looked over and sleeping in subway stations. Éponine refused her father's wishes, and so was spurned, Gavroche was a boy and therefore useless, the two younger boys died despite her efforts, but Azelma, sweet, vicious Azelma, kept her place with the family, kept a roof over her head, food in her mouth and a different body warming her bed every night. She is beyond Éponine's help, so she focuses on Gavroche)_ and Éponine is grateful. She still has her pride, that is what made her refuse her father's demands that she use her body to bring in money for the family _(she still has the scars all across her back, still has the limp that re _fuses to go away, from a broken bone set and healed by amateur hands, but she blesses her brother for it)__. So that night he does not ask, merely offers his apartment if they'd like to clean up a bit. She accepts, and grabs Gavroche's hand, and follows him out into the night.

_(None of them notice the way that blue eyes track them as they leave, and a beautiful face crumples into a confused, thoughtful_ _frown.)_

They shower and he washes their clothes. The apartment is really not built for more than one, living and kitchen areas only separate by way of a thin strip of countertop, the only other room in it a bedroom that barely fits a single twin-sized mattress, and the attached tiny bathroom, with a shower, sink and toilet crammed together in a way that makes Éponine bang her hips and knees more than once against the sink. He gives Éponine a paint-splattered t-shirt and sweatpants and the ugliest, most comfortable woolen socks she's ever worn, and finds Gavroche a blanket to use as a toga until their clothes are clean, and feeds them again, a simple meal thrown together while Gavroche looks on in wonder.

This tiny apartment is more a home then anywhere they have ever been. Grantaire is a painter, and the living room is devoid of any furniture other than a cheap television balanced on a cardboard box, and an easel and stool. The rest of the space is taken up with canvas, paint, paper, charcoal, pastel; with art supplies she cannot even name. He makes apologetic jokes about being a crappy host, making them eat on the floor, but Gavroche is so awed that he tells the man it's the best place he's ever been in his life, and Éponine's quiet affirmation makes him look a queer combination of shamed, pleased and embarrassed.

Once they're seated, with the TV crackling quietly in the background, Grantaire looks at Eponine with serious eyes.

"Étienne, what kind of work are you willing to do?" She immediately feels guarded and skittish again - had she failed that badly at reading him? He holds out his hands in an open gesture. "I don't mean - for god's sake. I just meant that I know a guy down at the docks who's looking for a couple able bodies for construction working. I could watch your brother while you work. He's a fair guy, never cheats his workers, ridiculously faithful to his wife, doesn't screw people around. If he catches you stealing or anything, you're out, but he's far and he pays well. He'll probably put you on light duty until you bulk up a bit, and because of that gimp leg, but all the same, I think you could do the work, and use the money. What do you say?" Construction work, hmm? The "'gimp in her leg' as he put it, wasn't all that bad, just a hitch to her step.

"I say I'll talk to him. She decides, and Grantaire beams.

"Excellent, my man." He claps her on the shoulder and goes to check the laundry.

~

Life as Étienne, construction worker and brother of little Gavroche, friend of Grantaire, is better than life as Éponine, destitute and homeless. Grantaire quietly hands her advertisements for apartments, already thoroughly researched, so she and Gavroche eventually end up in the apartment across the hall from Grantaire. It's the same dimensions, but Gavroche insists that she gets the bedroom, so she makes him up a cot in the corner of the living space. She's got a cot too, but it's still miles better than subway stations and bus stops. 

She wonders, sometimes, at how much easier her life has been as a boy.

Étienne has friends, fast and true friends, in Les Amis de l'ABC, as the group calls themselves, and even truer in Grantaire. The older man never breathes a word to anyone else that she and Gavroche had been homeless, and never, ever makes any mention of all the work he's done to get them into a stable situation. He never mentions all the time he spends consoling her when her hopeless crush on Marius, the epitome of the straight guy, even as he gets a girlfriend that it's absolutely impossible to hate _(then again, she never mentions all the time she spends consoling him over his equally ridiculous crush on Enjolras, who is possibly asexual and definitely married to the revolution)_.

She wonders, sometimes, at how much _happier_ she is as a boy. She does some research, wonders if perhaps she's actually transgender or something of that nature, but it's not quite that. She's happier socially as a boy, but she's not discontented with her body. She finds the term genderqueer, and that seems to suit well enough, so she stops worrying. 

Then Grantaire walks in on her as she's just out of the shower one day. They both freeze, stock still and shocked, and then Grantaire spins on his heel and exits quickly. Éponine dresses, her heart somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, pounding a nervous tattoo against her temples.

She's scared. For the first time since her father had told her that in order to stay with the family she would have to "work for her keep", she is bone-deep scared. Grantaire is her best friend, and she doesn't want to loose him. 

She steps out, and Grantaire is cooking, something he likes to do to de-stress. He's chopping up the chicken she'd had in the fridge with vague plans for supper, and she figures it's close enough to suppertime that it's okay.

"Where's Gav?" She asks first, because Grantaire had been watching him, she's just gotten off-shift. Grantaire won't look at her.

"He's with Courfeyrac, he and Jehan wanted to take him to the movies," he replies, and finally he looks at her, winter-blue peeking out from beneath ridiculously long sooty lashes. "I came in to tell you. They're going for froyo afterwards, but they'll have him back before his bedtime. We tried texting you." He smiles a tentative, fragile smile. She returns it, equally tentative and fragile. She bites her lip.

"Grantaire. I, well. I think it's time for me to tell you a story," she says, eyes glued firmly to the floor. "Please don't say anything until I'm done, this- " she gulps, worrying her lip, "this is going to be hard.

"The name I was born with was Éponine Thénardier. When I was fifteen, my father informed me that I was old enough to start earning my keep, and that if I wanted to stay in his house and under his good graces, I would open my bed to his customers. I refused, I told him I would rather leave the house, that I would rather _die_ than be a prostitute on his behest. He beat me, broke my leg. I got out, and I took Gavroche with me. I couldn't get my sister out, Azelma told him she'd do it, after she saw what he did to me.

"We were on the streets for three years when you found us. I don't even know why I trusted you, but you were the first person that ever did anything like that for us. I barely graduated from  _lycée_. I've got my  _baccalauréat_ , but it's not very good. I want to go on to university, but you know very well I haven't got the funds, and my scores are abysmal anyway. When you found us I was out of hope. You. Well, you gave me back some of that hope. You helped us help ourselves. Gavroche will be able to have the opportunities I've missed, and that's all I'm really hoping for now.

"When you thought I was a boy I didn't correct you because I felt safer that way. When everyone accepted me like that, I saw an opportunity. You have to understand I've never disliked my body. It's my social status I've always hated. Being male is easier in so many ways, Grantaire." She's managed to make her lip bleed, and she can't even look at him. "I like being Étienne. He's me, just as much as Éponine is. I'm still your brother, Grantaire. I'm just also your sister." She's crying now, and suddenly she's wrapped up in Grantaire's arms, and she sobs, sick at heart. He's crying too.

"Thank you, Éponine, Étienne. I love you, you have to know, no matter what shape you take."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com/post/58124071556/eponine-disguised-as-a-boy-finds-independence-and-self)
> 
> I am now accepting drabble prompts at my tumblr, oopsbirdficced


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